


idle hands

by bigstarkenergy



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstarkenergy/pseuds/bigstarkenergy
Summary: Atlantis, apparently, is under a prank war.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24
Collections: Stargate Winter Fic Exchange 2020-21





	idle hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arya_Silvertongue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/gifts).



It starts off fairly small, all things considered.

John doesn’t even notice for a while, two blissful weeks of his life that he wishes he could get back. Unfortunately, it comes to his attention when one of his marines walks into the cafeteria, vibrating with fury, dripping from his hair to his socks.

“McKay!” he yells, scanning the room.

John immediately tenses up, fighting the urge to put himself in front of Rodney, who’s wearing a shit eating grin across the table.

The marine in question, Sanders, John thinks, stalks over to their table, and jabs a finger at Rodney’s chest. “I know it was you who did this, McKay.”

To Rodney’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch, just continues on spooning jello into his mouth, at his constantly alarming rate. “Okay,” he says through a mouthful of red jello, still grinning. It’s actually kind of gross, except John has a soft spot where Rodney’s concerned, and he finds himself grinning too.

Sanders huffs and walks away, squishing his way out.

“Rodney,” John says, raising an eyebrow. “What the hell was that all about?”

Now, John finds himself really regretting ever asking. The answer, of course, is something that could only happen when you’re stuck in another galaxy with a couple hundred other people, bored out of their minds because there haven’t been any intergalactic incidents recently.

Atlantis, apparently, is under a prank war.

According to Teyla, it started with one of the marines pranking a chemist with some kind of fake bug, or something. John’s not going to ask for the details; if Teyla’s smirk is any indication, he’d be better off not knowing. But then it’d escalated from there, because they’re all children who can’t let anything go. Which is how John finds out about it, after Rodney shovels down the last of his jello and walks away, practically cackling with evil glee.

On a scale of one to “you’re a genetic fluke and partly alien,” John doesn’t pay it too much attention. Something will happen, and then they’ll all go back to being too stressed about impending doom to care about who pranked who.

A month later, when John’s the subject of some wet, slimy concoction in his favorite boots, he begins to think that he may have underestimated everyone’s tendencies towards vengeance. Despite actively not getting involved, John’s sucked into it anyway, by virtue of being the head of military command. And this time, he’s not ignoring it and hoping it’ll go away. This time, he’s going to get revenge.

“Rodney!”

When Rodney’s door opens, his hair is sticking up wildly and he looks panicked. “What?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I need your help,” John announces, and pushes past Rodney into his quarters. “We’ve got to do something about this.”

Rodney looks at John as it slowly dawns on him. “Oh,” he says, crossing his arms and smirking, “Now you want to get involved?”

“They ruined my favorite pair of boots,” John growls, holding up the offending pair. They’re still faintly green, and squishy at the bottom.

Rodney smiles even harder, looking nauseatingly smug. “I told you! I told you that you should’ve done something.”

John rolls his eyes, letting the boots fall to the ground with a dull thud. “Yes, fine. Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Sure,” Rodney says, sitting down on his bed. “What did you have in mind?”

The next day, when one of the biologists ends up “accidentally” stuck to a door for a couple of hours as John and Rodney smirk at each other, John calls it even. He’s got his, and there’s no reason to let this go on any longer. He issues a citywide announcement telling people to stop, and John figures that’ll be the end of that.

He’s forced to rethink this when he finds himself shoved into a closet with none other than Rodney McKay, who, as expected, is bitching about the complete lack of professionalism in the workplace. Personally, John finds it a bit ironic, coming from a guy who screams at people until they lose their will to fight back, but seeing as how Rodney’s elbow is two inches from being buried in his gut, he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Hey,” John interrupts, mid-rant, “It could be worse.”

“Oh, please,” Rodney retorts, his tone scathing, “How could it be worse?”

“You could be locked in here with Ronon, instead of me.”

Rodney scoffs, and attempts to wave his hand. Except it’s pressed against the door and John, which means all Rodney manages to accomplish is running his hand along John’s chest. John wills himself not to move, despite the flush he can feel creeping up his neck.

"You know, I think Ronon could probably break down the door,” Rodney says, looking at it.

“Maybe. But I’m sure as hell not trying it.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Wow,” John says, infusing the word with as much sarcasm as he can muster, “Really? I hadn’t noticed, thanks so much for telling me.”

Rodney rolls his eyes, and shifts his hand some more. John can’t help it when his breath hitches, not when Rodney’s warm, and pressed up against him like this.

“Hey,” Rodney says, his voice suddenly soft, “I’m pretty sure we can try yelling for help. Someone’s got to hear us eventually.”

“No,” John says, before he can even really think about it. “It’s okay. Let’s give it a couple of minutes.” Later, John can’t remember what happened. All he’s remembers is moving, his hand coming up to Rodney’s face, thumb on his cheek. “It could be worse,” he says, just before leaning in, touching his mouth to Rodney’s, softly, there and then gone.

Rodney blinks up at him in the darkness, wide blue eyes comically large. “Oh,” he says, almost to himself. Then, before the lump in John’s throat can solidify completely, Rodney pushes up against him, his mouth on John’s, his hands moving up from John’s chest to his hair.

John groans into his mouth and kisses back, ignoring the hard shelf digging into his shoulders. It’s good, it’s fantastic, kissing Rodney like this, without worrying if anyone will see, or what they’ll think.

When Rodney finally pulls away, a hand on John’s chest to hold him off, he shakes his head a little, then says “Okay, I suppose it could be worse.”

**Author's Note:**

> it was really fun to create this. i hope you enjoyed reading! my tumblr is @capfalcon if you wanna swing by.
> 
> kudos and comments make me really happy!


End file.
